


The High Price of Gold

by Bethynyc



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 21:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8862751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethynyc/pseuds/Bethynyc
Summary: There is still so much that the first dragonriders don't know.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merfilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/gifts).



Sorka didn’t keep notes the way that Sean did—his obsessive descriptions of drills and techniques were wearing to read, let alone write down. 

She had her own reasons for keeping a journal. Being a dragonrider, especially of golden Faranth, was so filled with emotional and physical ups and downs that it had become a habit to write out what she was feeling in her journal each evening. Her connection to Faranth’s sleepy thoughts at that time was quiescent enough for her to work through her emotions. 

Adjusting to intimate partnerships with both her dragon and with Sean wasn’t easy; it helped to be able to sort out her feelings on the rough page. Fine papers were at a premium, but a couple of the Fort craftsmen were creating blank books and ledgers bound in hide for keeping household accounts. Sorka had received these books as a gift from her mother, and they proved to be useful.

As the number of golds increased, finding space in the Hatching grounds was becoming problematic.

Clutching queens were territorial. It was her job, and Faranth’s, to keep the peace when queens pushed for the warmest sands for their eggs. The mental arguments were driving Sorka crazy, and she often had to speak sharply to both dragon and rider to keep the sniping from escalating into violence. 

_Must discuss mating/clutching queens with S. Relocate to Big Island? Warm, plenty of room, hot sands in the caldera. See if medics and trainees also want to go to deal with pregs._  


Perhaps Big Island might be a solution. It was tropical and nearly empty, other than some mines and a harbor for fishermen and dolphineers. There was an old volcano riddled with caves that would make excellent homes for dragons and rider. Best of all, the volcano contained a gigantic sand-filled cavern, perfect for hatching grounds.

Now she only had to persuade Sean to approve.

~*~*~*~

“Sean, love.”

“Yes, Sorka.”

She sighed and leaned against him in their bed. The sound of their dragons deeply breathing from their bed filled the weyr. “We need another hatching ground. There just isn’t room, even with Faranth’s latest hatched. We’ve still got two golds brooding, and three more to fly soon. “

Sean shifted and wrapped his arm around her. “I agree. But where?” He frowned. “Don’t like the idea of the queens being too far away to fly Fall. Even between mating and laying the eggs, there’s still a need for the queen’s wing to be at full strength.”

“It needs to be close, then. Just in case.”

She could see him squinting into the dim light of their bedroom; phosphorescent ‘glows’ (as the young ones called them) shining softly in the other room provided the only light. Decisively, he uncovered his bedside glow and stood. “I’ve a map on my desk.”

Sorka hid her smile. Sean was not easy to manage, especially when it came to the dragons and fighting Thread, but she knew him well enough to get his mind on the path she was hoping for. 

She followed him to his desk, wrapping herself in the sleeping fur from their bed. “We’ll need space, sand, and heat.”

“Yes, yes, Sorka-girl, I know.” Sean unrolled the map, and Sorka marveled again at his ability to transform into the Leader of the Dragonriders from her husband, Sean. His eyes roved over the map as Sorka rested her cheek on his arm and rubbed his back. 

_::Big Island::_ thought Sorka. 

Sean grunted. “Don’t try those tricks on me, Sorka. You know I’m wise to you!”

Sorka merely smiled. 

Sean peered at the map of Pern. His hand roved over the map, fingers brushing against markers for mountains and plains. His hand kept returning to Big Island. Shaking his head, he looked at Sorka ruefully. “Have to admit it, red-headed gal. It is the best place for the queens to clutch.”

~*~*~*~  


_Building has begun on the craters on Big Island. Not a proper Weyr (yet!) but a place where queens can clutch and people can live safe from Threadfall. A number of young midwives and medics have volunteered to join the support staff, along with enough farmers and builders to make it a self-supporting concern._

_Several of the queens are expected to mate in quick succession. I hope there’s room on these new sands for all of the clutches!_  


~*~*~*~

Faranth had dropped Sorka off, grumbling a little because she was being sent back to Fort without her Rider. Sorka insisted, though, since Torene and young Alaranth still needed supervision. The trainers of the young dragons – dubbed ‘Weyrling master’ by the second and third generation of dragonriders – were good in general, but golds needed specific guidance, especially as they matured. 

It would be at least a year before Alaranth would rise to mate, but it would be best to keep her and her rider busy at Fort when Porth flew. At some point, though, Torene would need to witness a mating flight, if only to understand the tremendous psychic pressure and connection between dragon and rider. 

A large herd of cattle and sheep were penned up in the field half-encircled by the volcanic cliffs. The cliffs were perfect dragon perches, and having the feeding grounds nearby would keep the dragons healthier than having to hunt in the wild. The cliffs were riddled with holes and passageways from the long-ago lava flows, and it took very little work with the stone cutters to create plenty of living space for both rider and dragon. Support staff lived in the caverns below, where there was room for an eating hall, infirmary, and the all-important hatching ground. 

Catherine had asked Sorka to be there for her. Her first mating flight had been difficult, and she’d spent time after in a great deal of emotional torment. A room was set aside for the queen’s rider and the bronze and brown riders to have some privacy, but of course everyone knew what was going on. 

Privately, Sorka was relieved that Carenath was so strong and consistent in his devotion to Faranth. He’d join in mating flights, but would never catch the queen or green in flight. She didn’t know if it was Carenath or Sean making the choice, and never asked. 

_But if something happened to Sean…_ Resolutely, she cut off the thought and concentrated on Catherine. 

Catherine came over to Sorka, eyes on her queen. Siglath was glowing faintly, not yet the strong glow signifying readiness to mate. “I hope she’ll be all right.”

Sorka lightly touched Catherine’s shoulder. “I hope you’ll be all right.”

Catherine gave her a sad smile. “I hope I’m just caught up in her enough to…not pay too much attention.” 

“You can do this.” Sorka put a bit of _push_ into her words, and Catherine sighed. 

“I have to. We need her clutch. I just wish I felt better about this. Less inhibited.” Catherine stared out at the ring of dragons perched on the ridge. She reached out and took Sorka’s hand. “Thanks for being here. I think this time won’t be so bad.”

Sorka squeezed her hand back. “Of course. I’ll be in the side room, after.”

Catherine caught her breath. “She’s ready.” She let go of Sorka’s hand; mind only on her dragon. 

Siglath swept down over the bawling, panicky cows and killed quickly, snapping the neck of her chosen prey. Sorka could hear Catherine exhorting her to blood only, no flesh. Siglath hissed, but obeyed, blooding two more animals before leaping into the air. In moments, she was a glowing golden speck flirting between the clouds. 

Following her were the bronze and brown dragons, stretching their wings to catch up to the queen who lured them to greater heights. 

Catherine and the male riders were in the room set aside for them, and Sorka shut the very human sounds out of her mind. She didn’t want to get caught up the flight as well. 

A scream jolted her attention. Tarrie Chernoff’s Porth was due to rise next week, but she was now glowing and among the cattle. She had experienced three flights so far and didn’t even pause before draining the blood of four sheep. 

Sorka ran over to Tarrie, who was crying “Porth, no, don’t go!”

“What’s happening?” said Sorka.

“I don’t know!” Tarrie wept. “Porth, stop!” But Porth was away, chasing the bronzes in the sky. 

Another shriek caught Sorka’s attention—Leah, who had impressed Faranth’s first daughter. Evenath was now among the animals. Three queens all afire to mate at once? Sorka didn’t know what would happen. She screamed for help, and the support staff flooded out of the lower caves. Two of the older medics were converged on Tarrie, while two others went to aid Leah. 

Sorka closed her eyes and listened as hard as she could. There was too much going on; she found herself whirled into a mental morass of mixed lust and rage.

Siglath wheeled high in the coldest part of the sky, flirting with her lovers. Two had already dropped out of the race, unable to follow her so far. But there was Porth, riding a thermal to the crowd of dragons, and some of the bronzes and browns were turning to follow her. Enraged, Siglath stooped onto Porth, who blinked _between_ at the first touch of claw. 

Evenath shot skyward, calling to the males to follow her instead. Some dropped away from the confusion around Siglath and Porth. Porth popped back from _between_ above Siglath and clawed at her wings, leaving Siglath screaming in pain. They both lost altitude and fell towards the flirting Evenath. Together the older queens raked at Evenath—Siglath at her head and Porth at her wings. 

The three queens entangled themselves in a fighting mass of claws and teeth. Porth skipped _between_ again, blinking in and out to rake at a wing here, a tail there. Siglath and Evenath worried at each other’s wings and clawed at each other’s bellies, snapping at Porth whenever she attacked. The males, still in the throes of mating, spiraled around the queens, unable to get close.

Resolutely, Sorka blocked out everything except Faranth. She was an oasis of calm in far-away Fort. 

_::Faranth, I need you to do something for me.::_

_::Come for you?::_

_::NO::_ Sorka thought at her fiercely _::Siglath, Evenath, and Porth are fighting! Call the others—all of them—to separate them!::_

Faranth paused. _::Just the bronzes and browns. The blues and greens are too light for the job.::_

Just then, Tarrie screamed again, high and scared. _Porth’s gone! I can’t reach her!_

_:NOW Faranth! NOW!::_

Sorka reached over to Tarrie and joined her in seeking Porth. _::Call to her, Tarrie. She might hear you, even_ between _.::_ She took Tarrie’s hand and together they called for Porth to return. 

Dimly, Sorka sensed the browns flying beneath the queens to break their fall. Bronzes joined them, prying the two queens apart as they continued to drop from the sky. More browns popped out from _between_ , brought by Faranth’s call. Sorka could hear Carenath encouraging the other bronzes to support the queens. 

Then all of her attention was brought back to Tarrie. Porth had finally popped back, faded and weak from her long sojourn _between_ , barely a wing length above ground. She managed to get to the bowl, landing as clumsily as a baby dragon on first flight. She collapsed, and it was all Sorka could do to keep Tarrie from jumping off the face of the cliff to get to her. 

Two dragons—a blue and a green—appeared next to them, the riders calling for Sorka and Tarrie to mount. The green took Tarrie right to Porth’s side; the blue brought Sorka over to Carenath and Sean, who were overseeing the descent of the other two queens. 

As gently as possible, the browns and bronzes brought Siglath and Evenath to rest. Sorka inhaled sharply at Siglath’s tattered wings. Catherine was already there, slathering numbweed potion on every scratch, along with the dragon medics. Catherine was crying and talking to Siglath, telling her that she would be all right, that they were together.

Evenath’s eye oozed ichor, as Leah held her head still while another healer cleaned it as best as possible and applying more numbweed. Silent tears ran down Leah’s face as she crooned to her dragon, helping her to calm down. 

Sorka could bear it no more. She rushed to Sean’s arms and let herself finally feel all of the fear and anguish of the day. Sean held her tightly as Carenath angled himself to shield them from the crowds working on the injured queens.

With a gulp, Sorka looked up at Sean. “How are the others? The bronzes…”

“A scratch or two. Nothing their riders can’t handle.”

“Such a terrible day.”

Sean lifted her chin. “They could all be dead.”

“Don’t.” Sorka pulled away, but Sean drew her back.

“Ssshhh. We didn’t know.” Sean rocked her gently until she breathed easier. No one else ever saw these gentle moments, but right now she needed it. She took another deep breath and stood back a little, meeting Sean’s gaze. 

“I’m better now. We have work to do.”

Sean nodded. “We do. And we will make sure this never happens again.” With that he stepped out from behind Carenath’s wing and firmly reassigned the medics and support staff to better care for the wounded queens.

Sorka reached out for Faranth. _::Could you come, love? I need you.::_

 _::Always,::_ came Faranth’s loving reply. With Faranth and Sean beside her, Sorka knew she would get through the aftermath of this frightening day. 

~*~*~*~  
_Siglath will never fly again. Neither will Evenath. Tarrie is terrified of letting Porth out of her sight for fear that she will go_ between _and never come back. But they are all alive, and even if they are not whole, they are ALIVE, and that is what matters._

_If any future Queen Rider reads this journal, please know that there is a reason why we separate the queens before mating. This is why. Do not make our mistakes again._  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my wonderful and patient beta, coralysendria!


End file.
